


Cheap Thrills

by salamandelbrot



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Breathplay, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandelbrot/pseuds/salamandelbrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being stretchered out of a brutal match with Brock Lesnar, Dean Ambrose gets some in the back of the ambulance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheap Thrills

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedLeaderfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/gifts).



> Alternative summary in texts-from-last-night form [here](http://m.imgur.com/a/odJM5).
> 
> Happy RarePairs!

This was definitely the same ambulance as the last time they were in town, because it had that stain on the ceiling that looked like Snoopy. Dean was getting really good at recognizing ambulances from the inside, which did not impress Roman as much as it should, especially considering the guy couldn't tell Chipped Paint Ambulance from Fake Banana Smell Ambulance. "It's okay," Dean had told him, patting him on the shoulder, "even the best of friends get jealous sometimes." 

But of course ambulance collecting wasn't the only new hobby of Dean's that didn't meet with his friends' approval. And, if he was lucky, the other one should be coming along right about now. 

As if on cue, he heard the crashing, shouting, and general mayhem that served as the alternate entrance music for one Brock Lesnar. Punctuality, that was what Dean liked in a - well, fuck buddy was probably the wrong word. Fuck nemesis? Frenemy with benefits? Puncutality, brutality, and a monster cock you could beat someone to death with. Would that count as use of a foreign object? Lex Luger's metal arm plate thing was a foreign object back in the day. Or maybe it would get _Dean_ DQ'd for a low-blow, how unfair would that be? He ought to get an official ruling on this, stat, because the more matches they had the more it seemed likely to come up, pun very much intended. 

The doors of the ambulance slammed open and there he was, the Beast himself, looking especially lovely with the big shiner Dean had given him. 

"Hi," croaked Dean. He was all safety belted down on the stretcher, so he gave Brock a little finger wave. 

One thing Dean had to admire about Brock was his ability to loom menacingly while crouching down to fit in the back of a van. By all rights, he should look _way_ sillier and less scary than he did as he stalked forward, straddling the low stretcher, until Dean was face to crotch with his jeans. But he pulled it off, Dean's heart was pounding and he could smell how hot for him Brock was. 

He couldn't really lift his head, but if he stretched his tongue out he could just barely reach with the tip. He leered up at Brock and licked up his zipper. Brock grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head down hard, and the next thing Dean knew his mouth was full. 

Sucking cock in a neckbrace was the _best_ , because it was the _worst_. He couldn't do a damn thing but lie there and take his facefucking with as much dignity as he could, which wasn't a whole lot because every orifice in his face was leaking drool, snot, or tears like there wasn't any room in him for fluids with Brock's dick drilling out a spot for itself in his throat. If he came in his pants right now without a hand on him, that was going to be his excuse. Stick a little white cowboy hat on his cock - "This Dean ain't big enough for the both of our jizz, pardner." 

He swallowed, moaning when Brock yanked on his hair. "Again," Brock grunted. 

Since he asked so nicely, Dean obliged, swallowing again and once more for good measure. Brock was so huge in him, Dean imagined he could feel the come pumping up his cock before it even hit his throat. 

Swallowing wasn't enough. Dean coughed and sputtered around Brock's dick, feeling the sting of come spurting out his nose. Fuck, he needed that to breathe. Dean couldn't even lift his hands to push him off, not that he could push Brock anywhere he didn't want to go anyways. If Brock didn't pull out soon he was going to _drown_ and then The Undertaker was going to see his embarrassing jizz-corpse boner. He struggled to stay conscious, focusing on his throbbing cock and trying to keep swallowing around Brock's. He could feel it softening on his tongue and finally, as his vision narrowed to a pinprick, Brock pulled out and let him gasp for air. As the blackness withdrew to his peripheral vision, he could see Brock watching him choke and gasp with a faint smile. 

He tried to talk, started coughing instead, then wheezed in another lungful of air and tried again. "What else you got?" 

Brock chuckled. Without even bothering to try unclicking the buckles, he reached down and tore the belts off the stretcher. Breathing fast and shallow, Dean spread his arms, licked his lips, and beckoned. Brock ripped his clothes off like wrapping paper then grabbed his ankles in one huge hand and bent him in half. 

"Hold on, hold on, time out," he panted, and Brock looked like his birthday, Christmas, and Wrestlemania had all come at once. "Do you have your phone? Can I use it?" Luckily, in Brock's case, the blood on his teeth probably made his smile extra winning. Looking less smug and more irritated by the second, The Beast Incarnate fished his phone out of his jeans and handed it over. Dean put his arms around Brock's neck but only so he could reach past his giant, weird head to take a picture of the view above them. 

"You got Snapchat?" He took Brock's glare as a no and texted Xavier the photo along with the message "Ceiling Snoopy is watching you nail Brock Lesnar." That was gold, Xavier loved memes. After slipping the phone into Brock's back pocket and giving his butt a squeeze, Dean flopped back down on the stretcher and crossed his arms behind his head. "Okay, time in, let's go." 

He could feel his ankles grinding together as Brock shoved his feet back over his head, making his aching thighs scream. The pain and the way Brock was manhandling him into position like Dean was his own personal sex doll had him close to the edge, the feeling of Brock's broad tongue sliding over his hole pushed him over it. He came on his own face, adding another layer to the mess Brock had left on him, and the hot, degrading splash of it dragged out his climax longer and harder than he would have thought possible. 

Brock didn't acknowledge his pleasure, not even to be smug, just kept eating him out until Dean could barely stand the wet, slick heat teasing him open. He felt like he was going to come again and it was going to be the worst orgasm of his life, with Brock's shallow, monotonous licks providing enough stimulation to force him to spill but not nearly enough to satisfy him. He struggled in Brock's grip, but their match had taken everything he'd had. All he could do was bite his lip and try to hold on until Brock got bored enough to fuck him. 

It felt like an eternity of Brock's tongue between his legs, but it couldn't have been much longer. He wouldn't have lasted much longer. Finally, Brock raised his head and mounted him, cock resting on Dean's closed thighs, grinning down at him with his chin shiny with spit. The only warning Dean had was Brock shifting back, then he was stuffed impossibly full and feeling the heavy slap of Brock's balls against his ass. Brock pounded him so hard and fast it felt like he'd end up inside out. 

He moaned and thrashed, trying to get more. "Come on, come on, is that all you got?" 

Huge hands gripped him under the arms and Brock popped his hips like he was about to take Dean back to Suplex City. Then he was up on Brock's chest, ankles at his ears, and Brock was jerking him up and down to meet his jackhammering thrusts. Dean couldn't hold back a scream, so he muffled it on a mouthful of Brock's pec. When he got his tongue on a nipple, Brock gripped his hips hard enough to bruise and fucked him even harder. Dean sucked and licked for all he was worth until Brock's huge cock pounding his insides brought him off so hard it hurt. 

Brock didn't stop until he was done, didn't even slow down, and all Dean could do was shake and spasm while he tried to figure out if it was pain or pleasure he was feeling when Brock kept on nailing his prostate. He was getting hard again so fast he figured it could only be both. 

Finally, Brock grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. That was what he did when he wanted to come, he choked him out because he liked how Dean's body felt on his cock when it was suffocating. Knowing that was enough to make Dean come again, the sensation heightened by the oxygen dep. 

Brock threw him down on the stretcher and came in him, then he let go of his neck. Dean lay there, dazed and panting, until he heard Brock zipping up his pants. 

He stretched, tried to shake the ache out of his legs. "So. Same time next week?" 

Brock lumbered out of the ambulance without looking back. 

That was probably a yes.


End file.
